The Wave
by UltimateContestShipperB2
Summary: REALLY sad ContestShipping oneshot. May has died. Can Drew cope with The Wave of pain that accompanies the loss of a loved one? Absolutely NO FLUFF whasoever. Do not read this if you don't like sad stories. Rated M because of the general idea.


_**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon!**_

Key: 

**Bold=Dream-like sequence**

Normal=Third person thoughts

_Italic=first person thoughts_

* * *

**~THE WAVE~ **

**The Wave hit before he could even see it coming, before he even knew what hit him. The Wave of pain struck him with its bitter sting as he watched her fall without warning. It knocked him to the ground with her, where he lied in complete agony. She screamed and writhed on the grass, blood running from her lips. The blood formed a pool around him as he did nothing but stare as the acid torture made the image get fuzzy and dark around its edges. He watched those beautiful, blue eyes shut forever. What was happening? **

This scene had happened before, but it hadn't happened this way. She had fallen, that was all. Nothing more. She had fallen and died, just like that. But why? The doctors were still trying to figure that out. Worse, Drew had only been alone with May to confess something, to confess that he was in love with her. Now, she would never know; he could never tell her.

All of the roses, the tips, compliments, even the insults had been because he loved her. Drew didn't actually know when his little puppy love crush turned into something more. He supposed it was when they fell off of a cliff, just the way May had fallen that night. But he couldn't think of that; saying her name hurt too much, even thinking it made him want to kill himself just so he could see her face again. He wanted to punish himself, to show her parents and brother that it was all his fault she had died. If he'd just _saved _her…somehow…if he'd saved her.

He knew that Max, Caroline, Norman, and all of the friends May had made would hold Drew responsible. If he'd helped her, if he'd done something as she fell, if…There was The Wave again. It was there all the time, but like the tide, sometimes it ebbed, only to return with its agony again.

Drew had never made any real friends. They were all May's friends. No one would ever want to be friends with Drew. Besides, he didn't consider Ash one of his friends…probably because Ash was so annoying—or maybe it was because Ash had a little thing for May. Drew didn't really know.

Maybe May liked Drew…maybe she didn't. Either way, it didn't matter anymore. They'd been at an after party, celebrating Solidad's win as Top Coordinator in Kanto.

**(Begin Flashback)**

The party was the most popular destination that evening, and Drew had hoped that it would attract May. She was so perfect that Drew couldn't stand to be away from her anymore. It was becoming quite a problem in training, so his Roserade rubbed in his face constantly.

He put on a pair of jeans and a green T-shirt; his stylist said he looked good in green, so that was fine by him. Since this event was in Pallet Town, none other than Ash Ketchum was there, too—and that really annoyed Drew.

Drew ran his hands through his hair one last time to calm his nerves, and he walked into the club. Music was blasting through the speakers, awesome lighting made the mood. This was a party based on an American party that Drew had seen in a movie. The music was techno, which wasn't Drew's favorite; in fact, he was more of a classical kind of guy.

Then, he spotted _her_, and his heart started beating faster. She was drinking some of the punch and stuffing her face full of food, but May still looked amazing. She was wearing a short, red dress with pumps, but it didn't matter. Drew had grown to 6'1, so he was considered "tall, toned, and sexy" by Goldenrod Radio—not that it really mattered to him. His fans called him sexy, too, but he just wished _May _would have said it to him once.

He sauntered over to the punch table. May was still wolfing down some cookies (really the whole platter), so she didn't notice him until Drew said,

"Enjoying dessert, May?"

May whirled around, wiping cookie crumbs off her dress as she turned. She swallowed her food quickly when she saw it was Drew.

"What do _you_ want?" she asked angrily.

_Ah. Probably shouldn't have said anything,_ he scolded himself.

"I just wanted to say hi, May. Is that a crime all of a sudden?"

"No," May mumbled.

Drew loved the way the red blush spread across her cheeks. He loved the way her blue eyes twinkled, even in this terrible lighting. He shook himself out of it; he didn't want to say anything stupid in front of May. Drew's next words greatly contradicted that last thought.

"Your nose looks pretty in this lighting," Drew said.

"What?" May was appropriately confused.

"Nothing," he replied quickly.

"Oh," she said, smiling coyly.

"May," Drew began, gulping. _Now is the time to tell her, _he thought to himself. "May, I—"

And that was when she collapsed. She just fell, without warning. One minute, she was fine. The next, she fell into Drew's arms. At first, he thought she was playing, that she was just kidding around. Boy, was he wrong.

"May, are you alright?" he demanded. "May?" He said her name over and over, but she didn't answer. Gradually, her pounding heartbeat stopped altogether. Drew felt tears creeping down his cheeks, but he also heard whispers behind him and knew that the partygoers must've seen the whole thing. His body was still in shock, his mind and emotions unable to read the fact May was dead. The words echoed ominously through his mind. _She's dead, she's dead, May's dead, May's dead, May is dead, May is dead. She's dead, dead, dead, dead. _He felt faint, and he felt everything go black around him.

* * *

He woke up three days later in a hospital. No one was in his room. There was a meter-tall stack of get-well fan mail and his bag full of supplies. That was it. No friends, just an empty hospital bed. Drew got up stiffly, stretching until he could move correctly. He walked into the adjoining bathroom and splashed some water on his face.

"What happened?" he whispered hoarsely.

Then, the memories rushed back to him, and he almost screamed out loud at the agony he felt in his chest. It was as if his entire being had been ripped apart, his world spun upside down—Why? Because May was dead. Again, the words echoed through his mind like a wicked chant. Dead. She was dead. All because of him.

"It's your fault!" he shouted at his reflection in the mirror. "YOU KILLED HER!"

The rational part of his brain knew that he had done no such thing, but his heart said otherwise. All his heart knew was that the woman he loved was dead, and Drew had never had a chance to tell her that he loved her.

Drew heard a door slam as a nurse hurried into the room and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Sir, are you okay in there?" asked the nurse.

"Yeah," Drew said.

"Well, if you're okay," the nurse said doubtfully. Then, Drew heard his hospital room door close once more.

He looked at himself in the mirror again._ When did I turn into a killer?_ he wondered. With shaking hands, he opened the bathroom door again.

He dug through his bag until he found what he was looking for: a pocket knife, the one that his father had given to him. Drew laughed to himself. His father had been a drunk and a loser. Drew could relate to the second half…and maybe in a few years, the first. He laughed even harder.

"You did this," he whispered to himself. "You killed her, so you are going to pay,"

The knife blade felt like fire on his wrist, and Drew watched, transfixed, as crimson blood beaded at the cut. It trickled onto his white hospital gown, which only made him chuckle more. It felt so good. He knew that May's parents and friends were going to blame him, so it didn't matter what he did.

Let them think I'm insane, he thought bitterly. They already think I'm a jerk.

He cut his arm harder, enjoying the pain, watching the blood splatter on the bed like red rubbed his head with his cut hand, only to get the sweat from his hair into the gushing cut and the blood from his cut into his hair. Through the stinging, Drew was still able to think somehow. _Red and green, _he thought idly. _Christmas colors_.

Finally, he wiped the knife with his good hand, putting the bloody tissue in the "bio-waste" box. It seemed as though The Wave was becoming more endurable when he cut. It helped to make it ebb more quickly, and high tide was more temperate, less excruciating, with the knife.

There was another knock at the door, and a nurse came in, gasping at the blood on the floor and on Drew's face.

"What happened in here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice level.

Drew shrugged, and when she wasn't looking, he wiped the blood from his wrist onto his nose.

"I guess I got a bloody nose," he said lamely, but he played his part convincingly. He thanked his lucky stars that he was a great actor.

"Oh," the nurse said, convinced.

"Yeah. It runs in my family," Drew lied. _Actually, being a loser does,_ he thought. _An ugly, stupid, infatuated, pining loser!_

"Um…how about you go to the bathroom and take a shower? Then, the room will be clean when you come back," the nurse suggested.

"That sounds good," Drew said in a detached tone.

"Great," the nurse said, smiling at Drew. "By the way, I'm a big fan, so can I have your autograph?" she asked.

Drew shrugged again and signed his name on the magazine cover he was on. Then, he handed it to a blushing nurse.

"Thanks," she said, giggling. Then, she left the room so Drew could undress, even though he could tell she wanted to see him naked pretty badly.

Drew put his knife back into his bag. Thank goodness for his pretty face, or he would've been in a shrink's office faster than he could say, "I'm not crazy!".

Then, he took off his clothes…also known as his hospital gown. He turned on the water and made it ice cold. More punishment. He jumped into the frigid water before he could stop himself. He used his shampoo and made sure that some got into his eyes. It burned, and he knew that his green eyes would be red-rimmed, Drew didn't care how he looked anymore. He didn't care about his life. He shivered in the shower. May was dead. That was what he should have thought about.

He watched as the blood from his face, wounds, and hair went down the drain like red food coloring or wine diluted in the shower.

As he rubbed soap across his left wrist, it burned more intensely than the initial knife had. He clenched his teeth, knowing that he deserved this. _An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life, _he thought to himself. _No pain, no gain. I'll never move on unless—_and then it hit him. Even after about an hour of being awake and knowing he'd never see May again had been agony. Drew was never going to move on from this. When May had died, Drew had died, too.

He turned off the freezing water, still shivering, and wrapped a towel around himself. He risked a look in the mirror. There was no denying it: Drew looked horrendously, terribly, despicably, disgustingly ugly. But he didn't care because inside, his entire soul had vanished. He was dead inside, so it didn't matter what he looked like on the outside.

Drew rifled through his bag until he found the appropriate clothes. He'd been saving them for Halloween, but it didn't particularly matter now. His outfit consisted of a pair of ripped up black jeans and a black T-shirt beneath a beaten up black leather jacket. He slipped on some plain, black sneakers. It was official: Drew was depressed. He looked through his hair care bag until he found the appropriate item. It was also for Halloween, he used it anyway, combing through his hair with shaking hands. The comb had built in black dye, so his green locks became streaked with black as they dried.

He looked at himself in the mirror once more, utterly shocked with the guy he saw looking back at him. This boy was around sixteen with tousled green hair streaked with black, red-rimmed emerald eyes, and a lean but muscular build. In short, he could have been very attractive, but his clothing made him look like someone going trick-or-treating.

Drew wondered idly if Roserade would even recognize him. He decided to test it. Walking out of the bathroom, he surveyed the room as he walked. The nurse hadn't lied; the room was perfectly clean. Then, he reached for his bag. He dug through it, and after a moment, he pulled out Roserade's poké ball.

"Go, Roserade!" Drew said.

Roserade came out of its poké ball, tilting its head to one side as it took in Drew's "new look".

"What is it, Roserade? Don't you recognize your trainer?" Drew asked.

When it heard Drew's voice, its eyes gleamed with recognition.

"Rose," it replied.

"Good. Return," Drew put it back in its poké ball. He took one last look in the mirror and collected his stuff, putting it back in his bag. He was going to be leaving, and he didn't want any of his very expensive things to get left behind.

He found out from the sign that they'd transported him to the Petalburg General Hospital. _Well, that must mean they don't hate me too much_, Drew thought dejectedly.

As he checked out of the hospital, the receptionist smiled at him. A smile, that was it, and then a conversation started.

"You must be new in town," she said. She was a young woman. Everything about her except her skin was either gray or silver. Her hair was a silvery gray with strands of black here and there. Her eyes were a blue-gray. She was wearing a plain, gray turtleneck sweater, despite the fact it was spring. She wore a silver ring on each finger, and she had gray dangling earrings.

Drew smiled back at her, but it felt unnatural, like he was simply putting on a mask. The mask of a happy individual. Then, Drew surprised himself. He spoke back to this strange woman.

"Actually," he said. "I'm from LaRousse originally,"

Her eyes widened. "You don't mean you're Drew, do you?"  
He really didn't want to go into fandom again, so he made up a quick little lie. "Actually, I'm…a Drew impersonator," Drew finally said.

"Really? That is so cool, and you look and act so much like him," she said.

"Well, I guess I'm doing my job right, huh?"

She nodded vigorously.

"I'm a huge fan of Drew's, so even meeting an impersonator is awesome," the receptionist gushed. Her rings sparkled as she waved her hands to emphasize her words.

"Thanks," he said.

If she'd been paying attention, the receptionist would have seen that Drew signed his name as simply Drew. He didn't want to write anything more. Drew walked through the doors into a rainy morning.

He crossed the street with ease. Drew had lived in Hoenn long enough to know where the Petalburg Gym was, but he followed the street signs regardless. He wished he had a hood on his jacket. Thankfully, the dye in his hair was waterproof. The rain seemed to suit his mood, making it easier to shift into his new persona: Depressed Drew. It also conveniently hid the tears on his cheeks. Here he was, returning to the place May had lived.

May. She was gone. Dead. And her friends were bound to hate Drew for it, just as he did. He looked at the intimidating façade of the Petalburg Gym. It was a big red brick building, and it looked even more depressing in the rain.

Drew walked slowly and painfully to the door and gave it a knock. It opened quickly; no one wanted to get a wet hall floor. Drew had his head cast down. He tried to regain composure just in time to see a very worried and very sad Ash Ketchum look him straight in the eye.

He said nothing and allowed Drew to come in, although he raised an eyebrow at Drew's hair and outfit. The normal Drew would never have put _that_ on. The normal Drew would've said something rude about Ash's hair or something. Not this Drew. Depressed Drew just walked into the house, trying to ignore The Wave that coursed through him as he walked through May's house for the first time.

Drew didn't want to do anything more than pay his respects and leave. Perhaps he could wander for the rest of his life. He could become a hermit, leave everyone, and be all alone with The Wave, trying to bear it until it swept him out so far he couldn't swim parallel anymore. Then, he would drown in his sorrow.

Max, Caroline, Norman, Misty, Ash, and a bunch of May's other friends sat on chairs, couches, and the floor. There was a table in the center of the living room. There were pictures and mementoes on it. Those included every ribbon she'd ever won and the Hoenn ribbon cup. A tear run down his cheek to see them. May had been so proud when she'd won the Hoenn Grand Festival. He'd been proud to be her rival, that he'd been there to compete against her.

The group turned when Drew walked in, and Johanna, Dawn's mother, gasped when he entered the room. _Of course she would_, he reasoned. _She's a coordinator. She watches TV, and she probably saw me somewhere. She knows I don't look like this._ The other side of his brain argued: _Well, you do now._

Solidad put her arms comfortingly around Drew, but he didn't feel comfort. He just felt numb. He stood there, not returning the hug. She hadn't visited him in the hospital. She wasn't his friend. Drew had no friends. When The Wave left him, he pulled her arms off of him. He met her concerned, hazel eyes. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, and a tear was rolling down her cheek, but he didn't know why.

Everyone in the room had been crying, even Harley, who had changed out of his Cacturne outfit. He was now wearing a black suit. May's best friend Misty shot Drew a look. Drew was surprised to find that it wasn't accusatory; it was forgiving, a teary smile. Dawn gave him the same look. It didn't make Drew feel better, though.

Ash, despite the fact he was crying, said,

"Since when did you go emo, Drew?"

Drew chuckled humorlessly. "Ash, I wouldn't call it emo. It's just a change. You know, like puberty," Drew could hardly believe that he was able to talk.

Misty chimed in. "And that's a change that Ash _still_ hasn't gone through," she said. Her voice sounded broken, but she still smiled through her tears.

Drew said nothing. He sat in the corner of the room, turned to face the wall, and tried to compose himself. This place…it reminded him too much of her to bear it. He had to leave. He was getting up when Norman said,

"May's…memorial service…it's in twenty minutes. We'd better get going,"

On his way out, the Petalburg Gym Leader put his hand on Drew's shoulder, a comforting gesture. But that wasn't the way Drew read it. _He hates me_, he thought to himself. _He holds me responsible. He'll never speak to me again. _In his anguish, Drew ripped and tore at his hair, watching as the green and black strands fell to the ground.

The others watched as May's crush dealt with his emotions. It didn't look like he didn't care. There was something else going on. The group got up and went into their respective cars to get to the funeral service. On his way out, Max offered Drew a ride in the family's car. Drew politely refused with a shake of his head.

"Suit yourself," Max said, shrugging.

_It's too much for a boy his age to bear_, Drew thought. _He's as dead as me—well, almost._

Drew felt another tap on his shoulder and heard a hoarse but still familiar voice say,

"Wanna ride with me, hon? You look terrible,"

Drew turned reluctantly. He didn't want Harley to see his tears, but it was inevitable. Drew looked uncomprehendingly Harley.

"It's really raining out there, and I don't think that leather jacket's gonna hold up in the water. You don't want to rust up like the Tin Man, do you?"

Drew turned to him and said,

"Fine,"

For once, Harley didn't make any remark as they went outside. Harley drove a purple mini-cooper. Drew said nothing as the rain fell on his head, wetting his bangs to his forehead. Harley simply opened the car door for Drew and sat down in the driver's seat. Harley fastened his own seatbelt and motioned for Drew to do the same.

When they got on the road, Harley spoke.

"What gives, Drew?" he demanded.

Drew simply sat there, not saying a word.

"Drew. Tell me what's wrong, or, so help me, I will stop this car," Harley said. His foot was on the brake.

"What do you think is wrong?" Drew asked quietly. His voice broke.

Harley's voice became gentle. "You loved her, didn't you," he said.

Drew nodded, his voice failing him. The Wave hit again as he remembered that he could never tell her. She was dead. Gone.

"She wouldn't want you to be like this," Harley said softly. The car had gotten caught in a traffic jam.

Drew's face turned confused.

"Drew, you're depressed," said Harley, articulating every syllable, trying to make Drew understand.

"I am _not_ depressed," Drew said, his voice barely more than a sob. "I'm just—"

"Honey, look at your outfit," Harley said. "You look _emo._ And your hair and attitude. What happened to the Drew that won't shut up?"

Drew said nothing for a long time, looking out the window at the rain. A few Pokémon were splashing in a puddle. Drew wished he could be so carefree again. "He's dead," he said finally. "He died with May,"

Harley looked at him but didn't reply. The rest of the ride passed without a single word. Drew thought of her the entire time.

The funeral was like any other funeral, except the casket was closed by the time Drew got there.

"Why is the casket closed?" Drew demanded to no one in particular.

"It was open, but you missed it," Max whispered. "Mom and dad made Ralts and me leave the room,"

Drew sat stalk still. He _had_ to see her. He had to. It didn't matter if he died, but he had to see May one last time.

"Let me see her," Drew said.

"You can't," Solidad replied.

Drew turned abruptly. He thought he'd been alone, but instead, he had Solidad annoying him.

"And what gives _you_ the right to tell me that I can't see her, one last time?"

"You…you're—"

_Stop! I know you blame me! Everyone in this crazy world blames me! I blame me! But you know what? I loved her! I still love her! So you have no right to stop me from seeing her!_ That was what Drew wanted to say. What came out was,

"Fine,"

Solidad walked back to her seat for the ending services. Drew would have some choice words for Solidad at the end of this.

* * *

That night, Drew got out his pocketknife again. He made long slices on both of his wrists, crying in his hotel room. He didn't care anymore. Maybe he would die from bleeding. Maybe she would come back.

He went through his things, throwing out anything and everything that reminded him of May. May's Beautifly had gone free, so Drew had released Masquerain so that they could be together. It had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but Drew had done it.

As he looked in his bag, he found something that piqued his interest. It was a pill case. He'd forgotten about these. They were pills that he'd swiped from his father's forbidden medicine cabinet. Apparently, they were very powerful pain killers, sleep inducing pain killers.

He got himself a glass of water, smiling to himself. If he lived through this, he would be sent to rehab for sure. If not, well…at least he'd be with May.

He opened the pill case with shaking hands._ WAIT! A note! That's what I need!_

He put down the case, picked up a pen and sticky note, and wrote:

_To anyone who cares:_

_I'm dead because I killed myself. But really, I've been dead for about a day longer. I can't say I'll really miss anyone. Bye._

_Signed,_

_Drew_

_PS: _Does_ anybody care?_

Drew hung it above his bed, where he would die. It felt so great, ending his life, that he decided to slice one more cut on his wrist, just to show The Wave. It was coming, but this time, he had a surfboard.

He gulped down about five of the powerful pills, feeling them work. He lied down on his bed, waiting for death.

"Low tide," he whispered.

FIN!


End file.
